


The Sound of Silence

by respoftw



Series: 2018 Hurt/Comfort Bingo [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Captivity, Gags, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 09:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: John had always associated Rodney’s voice with safety.That’s what made the whole thing so damn cruel.





	The Sound of Silence

John had always associated Rodney’s voice with safety.  

No situation could ever be too bad if Rodney was still talking.  It was when Rodney got quiet that John started to worry. Whether it was the quiet that came from running out of ideas or the quiet that came when Rodney was hurt; really and truly hurt.  Rodney would complain and whine for hours about a splinter or a stubbed toe but when it came to the real kind of hurt, the kind of hurt where John’s hands were packed into the hole in Rodney’s side trying to stem the flow of blood...that was when Rodney got quiet.  

John hated it.

Rodney’s voice had quickly become necessary for his state of mind on Atlantis.  It was his litmus test of just how bad a situation had gotten and his comfort blanket in times of peace.

That’s what made the whole thing so damn cruel.

* * *

“Rodney, lad, let me take that thing off you?”

John rose back to awareness to the white of the infirmary and the soft brogue of Carson.  He tuned the voice out while he did a mental check of the various aches and pains in his body, relieved to find that there was nothing new, just the lingering remnants of his last beating at the hands of the Olarans somewhat dulled by the painkillers that were being fed into his bloodstream via the IV that was taped to the back of his hand.

The crashing of a suture kit tumbling on to the floor brought John’s focus back to the infirmary and he pushed himself up into a half-seated position.  Turning in the direction of the crash, he took a moment to translate what he was seeing so that it made sense.

Rodney was pressed against the wall of the infirmary, his arms warding off Carson with wild, waving movements that had obviously been the cause of the fallen suture kit.  His eyes were wide and wild, like that of a trapped animal and John could see him mentally calculating the best exit path. Carson took another step forward and this was the part where Rodney would normally start yelling but there would be no yelling this time.  Not with the large metal gag that covered half his face.

“Rodney, please.” Carson started up his pleading again and John could tell from the worry in his voice that it had been going on a long time.  “I need to examine you and I need to take the gag off.”

Rodney’s eyes blazed at that and John saw the moment that Rodney made the decision that the best and quickest way out of there was through Carson.  

“Cars- -”

John didn’t even get the chance to finish his warning before Ronon’s gun flashed and Rodney crumpled to the floor, stunned unconscious.  He hadn't even noticed that Ronon was in the room.

“Was that necessary?” Carson asked, already kneeling by Rodney’s side.  “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

Ronon looked at John, a question in his eyes and John couldn’t meet his gaze for longer than a second, dropping his eyes to look at his legs, the left one wrapped in enough gauze that it looked twice as thick as his right under the thin blanket of the infirmary bed.

“Yeah, he would have,” Ronon said, his mouth turned down.  John figured Ronon knew a thing or two about being backed into a corner.  

“Aye, well, come and give me a hand with this thing, would you? I need to get it off.”

_ “No.” _

Carson turned to look at John, noticing that he was awake for the first time.

“John, how are you feeling?”  He approached John’s bed while Ronon took over on Rodney-watch, lifting him easily and dropping him on to the bed opposite John.  “And what do you mean, no?”

John tried to find the words to explain what they’d been through, staying quiet as Carson muttered over his bruises and checked his vitals.

Carson typed a couple of notes into the datapad he carried as he finished off. “Well, you’ll live,” he said.  “Now, do you want to explain why the neither of you want me to remove that damn gag? And how long as he had it on anyway? I know you have eyes Colonel.  You can see as well as me the bruising and irritation peeking out from behind it.”

“You can’t just take it off without his ok,” John said.  “He - - look, it was fucked up what happened. They - - “ he turned to look at Ronon, breathing heavily.  “You killed them, right? When you came to get us? They’re dead, right?”

Ronon nodded, a man of few words.  The thought that he would have been in much better shape if it had been Ronon that he had been captured with almost made him laugh.  

“Good.” John swallowed a lump of guilt - or maybe it was relief.  “Good.”

“What did they do, John?” Carson asked gently.  “I cannae treat you both until I know.”

“They - - “ John did laugh then, a horrible thin sound that made Carson grab his hand.  “They said he talked too much. Told him that every time he so much as made a noise that I would pay for it.”

Carson’s eyes lingered on the bruises and cuts that littered his skin.  “Oh, you poor buggers,” he cursed.

“Yeah,” John shifted, hissing as the IV pulled.  “He tried, he really did. But they put him in impossible situations and - - “

“The gag?” Carson asked.

“He asked for it,” John said, his voice breaking.  “Begged for it after the last beating. I was kind of out of it but they offered it to him, said that it would stop him breaking the rules.  He was on his knees, Carson. He - - “ John shook his head. “You can’t just take it off. He needs to see Heightmeyer, he needs..”

“I think you both need to see Heightmeyer,” Carson said sadly.  He paused, exchanging a loaded look with Ronon. “Can I ask you something, John?  Is it for _his_ sake you don’t want us to remove it or your own?”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?  That was the really damn cruel thing about it.  They’d taken John’s haven, his comfort blanket, and turned it into something that would hurt him.  And he had no idea if he could get past that.

* * *

It took a few days but Rodney eventually lets them remove his gag.  The joke was on them though because just because the gag was removed didn’t mean that Rodney would start to talk.

John avoided him, not that it took much effort.  He was pretty sure that Rodney was avoiding him too.  He was pretty sure Rodney was avoiding everyone. He was only ever seen in the corridors during the brief moments of travel between his quarters, the infirmary and Heightmeyer’s office.

The first time John had seen him he’d been shocked by the bruising around Rodney’s mouth and chin where the gag had fit too tightly, splitting the corners of his mouth and leaving them raw.

Despite his more serious injuries, John was back at work before Rodney and it was only then that he realised just how much he missed Rodney’s voice.

Zelenka attended the senior team meetings now and, while he was a perfectly adept Acting Head of Science and Research, he didn’t complain half as much.  John wasn’t sure when complaining had become an essential part of the person spec for that role but it just _was_. Rodney would be rolling his eyes until they threatened to fall out if he was forced to sit through more than three minutes of an anthropological presentation but Radek merely looked mildly disinterested and John missed Rodney like a limb.

It didn’t matter what had happened with the Olarans. None of it was Rodney’s fault.  He wasn’t responsible for any of John’s pain, not a second of it. The _Olarans_ were. And he was an idiot for not realising that from the start.

He had planned to tell Rodney exactly that but Rodney wasn’t answering his door or his radio.  John pushed gently with his mind and Atlantis bent for him, bypassing the lock on Rodney’s door.  John patted her walls in thank, mildly distracted by the action as he walked into Rodney’s room so that he almost missed the fact that Rodney was pulling a gag out of his mouth as he sprung to his feet from his position on the bed.

The gag looked like it had been fashioned out of a pillowcase, a double knot in the middle with tails that tied around the head.  Rodney realised the futility of trying to hide it as John stood there, stunned into silence and he tipped his chin up defiantly, daring John to say something.

That had been the worst part of the whole thing; Rodney’s eyes.  After they had put that brutal gag on him all John could focus on was Rodney’s eyes.  Rodney’s eyes were stupidly blue and far too fucking eloquent even when his voice wasn’t silenced.  It was impossible to look into those eyes and not see just how much pain Rodney was in.

John didn’t shout or punch the wall, or whatever other violent reaction Rodney’s chin tilt and defiant eyes expected.  He sat heavily on the edge of Rodney’s bed and buried his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

It took a few moments, a few moments where the only sound in the whole room was John’s breathing, but he soon felt the mattress move beneath him as Rodney’s weight settled on it.  Rodney’s hand tentatively grazed John’s own and John grabbed on to it like a lifeline. They had sat like that often in their cell, Rodney trying so hard to be quiet at first and, later, forced to silence by the...the _thing_ in his mouth.  John needed it now just as much as he had then.

“They’re all dead but somehow they still won,” John said, breaking the silence. 

He could feel Rodney shaking his head but that just proved John’s damn point.

“They took you away from me,” John spat, standing up and starting to pace.  “They were trying to break us and they - - I don’t know how they knew that the fastest way to do that was to take you away from me but they did and - - Jesus, Rodney, you _let_ them.  You're _letting_ them and I know it was fucked up, I know it was - - I miss you. I want - - please, Rodney. Please just talk to me. Please.”

John wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees but Rodney was suddenly next to him, his warm hands touching John’s face, tracing the faint scar that still shone pink on his temple, curving almost to his eye.

“You didn’t do this,” John said.  “It wasn’t you, Rodney. It was them - it was - - “

“Shut up.”

Rodney’s voice sounded awful, dry and disusued and croaking and it was the best thing John had ever heard.

Pulling Rodney tight, he shut up.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to librarychick94 for picking my next hurt/comfort bingo square for me - this fic fills number 15 - Loss of voice/forced silence.
> 
> The wild card fill’s up next so if anyone wants to give me a number between 1 and 200 to determine which prompt I use that would be very welcome!


End file.
